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Dear You,
Sometimes, I really hate you. I think you know this and I think that, sometimes, you really hate me, too. I hate your high minded ideas and your arrogance. I hate how you talk so well and you can spin circles around stupid little me until I don't know right from left, top from bottom. I hate how you look at me disapprovingly when I act my age - because I should be acting so much older. Then you tell me I'm spoiled and I hate you even more. I hate how you hug and kiss me in private, but once we're in public I'm a stranger - just a friend. I hate how making people miserable comes so easily to you when all I want to do is make people happy. You really know, even if unconciously, how to hit my every insecurity. I hate how you make me cry when no one else has done it before. I was completely dry before I met you. Now I'm a mess of tears and snot while I hastily try to hide them from my friends, who stood by me even when I left them for you.
You were right, you know. Sometimes, I can't fucking stand you.
The worst part is, no matter how hard I try, I can't get away from you because I don't really hate you. I can't stop caring about you and I realize that I hate myself more than I hate you. Congratulations, you've managed to control me like a drug controls an addict. I don't know what to do, but I know I still have to be with you.
Sincerly,
Lisa
Sometimes, I really hate you. I think you know this and I think that, sometimes, you really hate me, too. I hate your high minded ideas and your arrogance. I hate how you talk so well and you can spin circles around stupid little me until I don't know right from left, top from bottom. I hate how you look at me disapprovingly when I act my age - because I should be acting so much older. Then you tell me I'm spoiled and I hate you even more. I hate how you hug and kiss me in private, but once we're in public I'm a stranger - just a friend. I hate how making people miserable comes so easily to you when all I want to do is make people happy. You really know, even if unconciously, how to hit my every insecurity. I hate how you make me cry when no one else has done it before. I was completely dry before I met you. Now I'm a mess of tears and snot while I hastily try to hide them from my friends, who stood by me even when I left them for you.
You were right, you know. Sometimes, I can't fucking stand you.
The worst part is, no matter how hard I try, I can't get away from you because I don't really hate you. I can't stop caring about you and I realize that I hate myself more than I hate you. Congratulations, you've managed to control me like a drug controls an addict. I don't know what to do, but I know I still have to be with you.
Sincerly,
Lisa